


Pick Me Up

by Caledonia



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Flirting, Fun, M/M, One Shot, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-18 10:30:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18119006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caledonia/pseuds/Caledonia
Summary: Arthur is Merlin's boss at a call centre, but Merlin has a second job as a cleaner and one day he gets assigned to clean Arthur's flat. Knowing that it's against all sorts of rules, Merlin does it anyway. What happens when Arthur catches Merlin in his flat? Will Merlin get fired from both of his jobs at once?





	Pick Me Up

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any of these characters and I am not making any pennies from this work.
> 
> This one-shot was inspired by the music video to Clean Cut Kid's song Pick Me Up. That's all.
> 
> Thanks, as always, to [GuessImAClotpole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guessimaclotpole/pseuds/Guessimaclotpole) for reading it first. Endless love, my dear. xx

Merlin stood outside the closed flat door and shifted from foot to foot. Opening this door was a breach of his company contract - he could get fired or, worse, sued. His first instinct when he’d seen the address on the duty list had been to call his supervisor and explain that he couldn’t clean this flat because he knew the occupant… But here he was. In his right hand he carried a bucket of cleaning supplies, in his left he held the keys to Arthur Pendragon’s flat.

Without giving himself a chance to chicken out, Merlin inserted the key into the lock and let himself in. As a precautionary measure he announced his presence, even though he knew that the flat would be empty - the cleaning company always guaranteed an empty house, it was too difficult to dust with the owner hovering over you. As Merlin suspected, the flat was empty. Although Merlin wanted to simply walk through the empty rooms he knew he was on a time crunch and, instead, got straight to work. The duty list said Arthur was expected home in 90 minutes. The absolute last thing Merlin wanted was for Arthur to see him here - no one at the call centre knew that Merlin had a second job, and if they knew he spent his free time cleaning toilets he’d never hear the end of it. Plus there was the whole possibly losing his job and/or getting sued thing.

So, quickly and thoroughly, Merlin cleaned. He plugged into his music, tuned out the world and cleaned. It was not difficult work. He just had to pretend it wasn’t Arthur’s fingers that had smudged the glass-fronted bookshelves, that it wasn’t Arthur’s contact lens case tossed casually on the kitchen counter, that it wasn’t Arthur’s shapely backside that had flattened the sofa cushions. The first complication came when Merlin started to clean the bathroom. No matter how hard he tried to distract himself he just couldn’t forget that a stark naked Arthur Pendragon showered in here.

Now, he’d seen Arthur partially clothed before - at the company outing over the summer they had gone to the seaside and there had been swimming and beach volleyball (apparently it was important for company bonding to know which of your coworkers attended the gym regularly). So Merlin’s imagination didn’t have to work too hard to fill in the blanks. Yes, Arthur had been naked in this shower, probably on a daily basis, and yes his naked backside had probably perched on the edge of the bathtub at some point - was it really any cause for Merlin to acquire an erection so persistent that chemists would want to study it in the hopes of medically recreating it in the above-fifty crowd?

Trying to stop thinking of his boss naked and also trying to ignore the unignorable bulge in his trousers, Merlin finished cleaning the bathroom and moved on to the final room he had to clean - Arthur Pendragon’s bedroom. If the bathroom had proved a challenge then this was going to be epic. Arthur slept in this room. He wanked in this room. He shagged in this room (presumably). And the duty sheet said he was supposed to change the sheets on the bed and leave the dirty ones for laundry pick-up in the morning. He had to strip Arthur Pendragon’s bed! Christ almighty if Merlin’s imagination wasn’t already working overtime to imagine the hottest guy he’d ever known wandering naked through his flat then this would make that job much easier. As it was Merlin turned the volume up on his music and tried, _tried_ to be a professional.

Which isn’t to say that he didn’t open Arthur’s wardrobe and finger a few of Arthur’s beautiful suits. Or that he didn’t invade Arthur’s privacy and _accidentally_ discover which drawer housed his undergarments. Or that he didn’t lift a pillow from Arthur’s bed to his face and _inhale_.

“Did you just _smell_ my pillow?”

Merlin froze for a second, pillow held to his face, eyes closed. Even over the loud music he could tell that was Arthur’s voice. Shitshitshitshitshitshitfuck. Here he was standing across the room from Arthur Pendragon, obviously incredibly aroused (because as fashionable as skinny jeans were they weren’t great at hiding, well, anything), and smelling Arthur’s pillow. He might as well sign his death certificate now.

When Merlin opened his eyes to accept his fate the doorway to the bedroom was empty. The crashing of the front door assured Merlin that, hope as he might, he had not imagined Arthur’s presence. Instead of chasing Arthur to apologise (really, though, what kind of apology was going to be sufficient?), he stood still for a few more long moments. The dull thudding of the building doorway closing echoed through the room, and then Merlin could hear the delicious sound of a very expensive car coming to life just outside. Arthur was gone, then. Too late for an apology.

Deciding there was nothing he could do to make things worse, Merlin finished the cleaning tasks. He was still half-hard despite the dread of his impending doom, and then he left the flat, locking the door behind him and hanging the cardboard tag on the inside door handle as he’d been instructed. He’d intended to write in a colleague’s name, but he hadn't bothered. There it was in plain sight - This flat has been happily cleaned (read: violated) by Merlin E.

At home that night Merlin considered texting Arthur, or calling him to try to, somehow, apologise. He thought of resigning from the cleaning company before they had a chance to sack him. Or packing all of his belongings and moving far, far away. But despite his bone-deep embarrassment and fear, he was curious to see how Arthur would respond to what had happened, so he didn’t do any of these things.

And as he treated himself to a marathon wank in the shower that evening before bed, Merlin remembered the smell of Arthur’s expensive aftershave on his pillow, and he decided that he didn’t care in the slightest what happened next, it had been worth it.

[--]

In the morning Merlin was less blase about what had happened, and he seriously considered phoning in sick to his day job - then he decided that if he was going to lose both of his jobs in one day he might as well get it over with. He just hoped that Arthur would be too embarrassed by the situation to tell everyone they had ever met exactly what had happened. He’d managed to make a few good friends during his years at the call centre, and he hoped that he could maintain them even after he got sacked. With any luck Arthur would just fire him and not give any details as to why.

Arthur was standing beside Merlin’s desk when he arrived in the office, chatting with a few of Merlin’s colleagues - possibly handing Merlin’s tasks around before he fired Merlin immediately. But, nobody looked like someone had just been fired. They all, including Arthur, just said hello and moved out of the way as Merlin took his seat.

Merlin felt tense and hyperaware, but Arthur was acting as though he hadn’t just caught Merlin a) in his private home on false pretenses and, b) _sniffing his freaking pillow_. He was laughing and joking and being his usual, irresistible self. It made Merlin extremely uneasy. There was nothing at all to indicate that Arthur had guessed by reading into Merlin’s actions that Merlin had a fierce and embarrassing crush on Arthur.

By lunchtime the tension of not having been fired yet had made Merlin jumpy, and when his mobile buzzed with a voice message when he turned it on over his break, Merlin felt some slight relief - surely he was about to be fired by the cleaning company. But, no, actually. Apparently the client last night had been so impressed by the standard of cleaning that they had requested he, and only he, return to clean the flat again in future. His boss even offered him a bonus, because historically Arthur was a difficult client, and they were so pleased because if Merlin hadn’t worked out his boss was going to have to do the job herself.

Merlin stared at the closed door of Arthur’s office for a good two minutes after that wondering what the fuck was going on before he came to the conclusion that Arthur was playing the long game. He knew the suspense would kill Merlin and he was enjoying watching him squirm. Maybe he was waiting to out Merlin when it would cause the maximum amount of humiliation? Either way, Merlin didn’t know what to think, and over the course of the following two weeks Merlin became increasingly anxious. His colleagues commented on his strange moods, asking him whether he was getting enough sleep and suggesting that he might need to take a holiday.

[--]

Tuesday dawned and Merlin woke feeling ill. Tonight was the night that he would return to Arthur’s flat. He got dressed in a sort of daze, wondering what Arthur could possibly have planned tonight that would ruin Merlin’s entire life. Merlin had lost the ability to eat, he was sleeping fitfully and he was basically unable to enjoy any aspect of his life. It was like he was walking around with a noose around his neck just waiting for someone to pull the rope.

Arthur said nothing at all to him that day at work, but Merlin didn’t think he was imagining that Arthur’s eyes were trained on him more often than strictly necessary. Was he joyously picturing Merlin’s downfall? The stress of it was driving Merlin crazy. At least by the end of the night it would all be over with. Arthur would have had his fun and Merlin could move on, get two new jobs that didn’t involve Arthur Pendragon at all. Or perhaps Merlin could relocate to somewhere distant. Like the Arctic.

When he arrived at Arthur’s building he half expected there to be a party going on where everyone from the call centre was invited -  hey, look everyone, it’s Merlin and he moonlights as a housekeeper! But the flat was deserted.

This time Merlin didn’t think at all as he worked his way as fast as he possibly could through the list of cleaning tasks that Arthur had requested. There were no special instructions, and the flat was practically spotless - did Arthur actually _live_ here? - so the job took Merlin much less time than it had the week before. He left the bedroom to last again. He had very little desire to return to the scene of his crime, but the room was exactly as it had been before. It looked like Arthur hadn’t even slept here. The bed was made so crisply Merlin wondered why Arthur bothered hiring a cleaning service at all - it seemed he was quite capable of keeping his place spotless.

Through his cleaning Merlin had looked for tiny cameras that Arthur might have rigged up to catch Merlin-the-pillow-sniffer in action, but there was nothing. There were no laminated, fuzzy CCTV images of Merlin-the-pillow-sniffer lining the walls. In fact there was nothing at all that would allude to the fact that Arthur had caught Merlin sniffing one of his pillows.

Except that when Merlin drew back the duvet to strip the bed there was a sealed plastic bag containing one of Arthur’s work shirts, a deep crimson button-down that Arthur had worn to work the previous day. Merlin had always liked the way Arthur looked in red, there was something almost regal about him. There was a note in Arthur’s neat handwriting: _Take this home, it will last longer._

Every cell in Merlin’s body reacted. Arthur had left this here for him to take home. He had caught Merlin sniffing his pillow and his response was to send Merlin home with something that smelled like him. The _tease_ of that made Merlin ache in the most delicious way.

When Merlin carefully opened the seal the intoxicating scent of _Arthur_ came spilling out of it. Laundry detergent, expensive cologne, and the musky, earthy scent of just Arthur. Merlin’s head spun and the room seemed to move around him. The idea of Arthur thinking this through - of choosing which shirt to leave, of wearing it knowing that he was going to leave it for Merlin to find. Maybe he hoped that Merlin would wear it. Merlin didn’t think he’d ever been so turned on by anything in his entire life.

When Merlin was finished with all of his cleaning tasks he tucked the ziploc bag into his backpack and then went back into Arthur’s room, took his t-shirt off and folded it neatly then put it under Arthur’s pillow before putting his hoodie back on over his bare skin. He ripped off the bottom of the job sheet and wrote Arthur a note that said: _For you._

He wanted to leave a note that said _I have no fucking clue what is happening here but it’s so damn hot I don’t even care_. But he didn’t. Then Merlin made one last check that he had done everything he need to do and he left the flat.

That night he opened the ziploc bag again and breathed deeply. It was dizzying and sensual and so hot that he had a piece of Arthur’s clothing in his possession. He wondered whether he would have the guts to wear it to work, and if anyone but Arthur would notice if he did. He decided that he would leave that stunt until the following week, because once Merlin wore the shirt it wouldn’t smell like Arthur anymore, and its spell would be broken.

[--]

Over the next few days Merlin knew his eyes were trained on Arthur’s office door much more often than usual. He was desperate to catch Arthur’s eye, to confirm in some silent way that Arthur was as affected by their swap as he was. But Arthur seemed to be ignoring him completely. It was equally as infuriating as wondering whether/when he was going to be sacked, and subsequently Merlin spent the days getting more and more anxious, just as he had the previous fortnight.

On the Thursday before Merlin was due back at Arthur’s flat for his cleaning job, Merlin wore Arthur’s shirt to work. He hadn’t laundered it, and he hadn’t tried to mask the fact that it smelled like Arthur - he just wore it like it was his own shirt. It was arousing beyond description to Merlin to walk around work smelling like Arthur, with fabric pressed against his skin that had previously touched Arthur’s own skin. It was intoxicating and distracting, especially after Arthur’s wide-eyed look when he saw Merlin. Merlin wasn’t entirely sure what kind of game they were playing, but it was incredibly sexy and he couldn’t say he wanted it to stop any time soon.

On Friday evenings a lot of the guys Merlin worked with played football together in a small league. They usually met up by one of the desks near where Merlin sat, discussed the team they were playing against that week and any tactics that would be useful to ensure a win. This particular Friday evening Arthur convened as usual, and he was wearing Merlin’s t-shirt. It was obviously a size too small for him, Arthur was much broader of shoulder than Merlin, and Merlin could see Arthur’s muscles very clearly through the fabric. The hem was a few inches shorter than Arthur normally wore, and when Arthur moved to reach for a bottle of water Merlin could see a wide strip of Arthur’s tanned skin above his joggers. Merlin could have looked at Arthur dressed like that for hours. As it was, immediately after his shift was over Merlin went straight home and wanked, holding Arthur’s shirt against his face and breathing in the rather more tantalising smell of him and Arthur combined.

The days until Tuesday flew by in a rush of desperation, and Merlin could think of nothing apart from returning to Arthur’s flat again. At work that day Merlin could not focus on anything at all. It was now a full four weeks since the first time he had set foot in Arthur’s flat, and the tension was only rising daily. He caught himself staring at Arthur at work basically all of the time, and he caught himself thinking of Arthur even more often than that.

Merlin had at least had time to plan something before he arrived at Arthur’s flat. He had decided on a course of action if, and only if, Arthur had left him another note. He wondered what Arthur could possibly do to top the shirt in the bag, and he was excited to find out.

The flat was so clean that Merlin hardly had anything to do, but he followed his instructions, all the while keeping one eye on the closed door of Arthur’s bedroom. Was there something waiting for him in there? He hoped so, because he really wanted to do what he had planned to do, and he could only do it if Arthur was still playing the game. Finally he found himself standing outside Arthur’s door, he took a deep breath and went in.

There was nothing out of place in Arthur’s room, and there wasn’t a plastic bag under the duvet. Merlin couldn’t help but feel a little let down, but he stripped the bed and re-made it anyway, making sure to leave everything as tidy as he’d found it. On the way out of the room he went to close a drawer that was ajar, but just before it slid shut Merlin paused. He hadn’t opened that drawer - not on this visit, anyway. He returned to the drawer and opened it fully - inside was Arthur’s neatly folded collection of designer boxers and, sitting on top of them a note that said: _I couldn’t decide. Pick one._

All of the blood in Merlin’s body was redirected to his groin so fast that he got lightheaded. As his fingers ran over the soft fabrics in the drawer he let his mind wander to the thought process implied by Arthur’s note, but he began to spontaneously combust so he tried not to think about it too much, after all. He chose the brightest, most obnoxious pair of boxers Arthur owned and tucked them into his pocket. Then, again trying not to think too much about it, he stripped himself naked, climbed into Arthur’s freshly made bed, and lazily slid himself between the sheets. He'd been sure to wear extra aftershave, so when Arthur climbed into his bed that night he would surrounded by the smell of Merlin. He made sure to wrinkle the fabric from one corner to the other. Then he stood, redressed, remade the bed, and left the room.

[--]

On Wednesday morning Merlin wore Arthur’s boxers to work. Mid afternoon Arthur was in a meeting in one of the glass-walled offices that looked onto the call floor. Merlin, pretending he needed to talk to one of his colleagues walked over to the desk closest to the windows. He waited until Arthur looked up and then he stretched. He reached for the ceiling, twisting his torso slightly until he felt the muscles in his side tighten. He'd purposely left the button of his trousers undone and they hung low on his hips, leaving at least an inch of Arthur's boxers visible.

He was rewarded for his efforts by the clattering of Arthur _falling out of his chair_ followed by commotion in the meeting room during which Merlin regained his seat.

The question was, how long could this go on for? They were into their sixth week since Merlin’s first visit to Arthur’s flat, and they were running out of items of clothing to inconspicuously trade. The sexual tension between them at work had grown to the point that Merlin was fairly certain everyone in the building (and the building next door) knew there was something going on. His eyes were drawn to Arthur approximately seventeen times every minute, and the two of them spent many minutes just locking eyes with each other across the room. Merlin thought something was bound to happen sooner or later.

The problem was that, even though Merlin was literally walking around in Arthur's undergarments, the frequency with which they spoke to each other had not increased. Arthur had made no attempt to further their _actual_ interaction, even as he came up with new and exciting ways to drive Merlin completely insane with lust.

So Merlin waited impatiently, stealing glances and counting down until Tuesday night and wondering what gift Arthur Pendragon was going to leave for him this time. All the while knowing that his own offering was about to cross all sorts of lines.

[--]

Tuesday evening finally arrived and, like usual, the wasn't much for Merlin to do. He hurried through his tasks and found himself, once again, standing outside Arthur Pendragon's bedroom door. There was nothing out of order, and Merlin did the jobs he was required to do. Then he noticed another ziplock bag, this time on top of the chest of drawers.  Inside was a sample bottle of Arthur's expensive aftershave and a note that read: _I want to be able to smell me on you._

All Merlin wanted to do in that moment was strip naked and crawl into Arthur's bed again, not leaving until Arthur himself turned up but instead Merlin just lifted Arthur's pillow and placed his offering under it.

It was a photo of Merlin wearing Arthur's boxers. You could see some of Merlin's abdomen below his belly button, and you could see Merlin's dark hair where his hand gripped the hem of the boxers and tugged them _just slightly_ down. It wasn't necessarily indecent, but it hinted at indecency enough that Arthur should easily be able to imagine exactly what Merlin did after taking the picture.

Smiling, Merlin let himself out of the flat, already looking forward to the Tuesday a fortnight later.

[--]

The next day Merlin wore Arthur's aftershave to work. He got a few compliments, but no one overtly recognised the scent, which surprised Merlin because, even before their strange exploits Merlin would have been able to trace this scent back to Arthur.

Arthur barely looked at Merlin that morning,  and Merlin immediately began to worry that he'd gone a step too far in their game. Broken some rule he hadn't known existed. So when he had a voicemail from the cleaning company that lunchtime he was one hundred percent convinced he was getting sacked.

Except he didn't. His boss just wanted to see if Merlin could return to the Pendragon property earlier than scheduled. This Friday between five and six. Apparently Mr. Pendragon was entertaining on Friday night and he wanted his space to be particularly spotless.

It upset Merlin more than he wanted to admit that Arthur saw him only as hired help even after everything. If he was entertaining it meant that Merlin wasn't invited.

The rest of the week passed in a confused sort of angry haze, and by Friday evening when he let himself into Arthur's flat he was emotionally exhausted.

The whole flat smelled amazing. Whatever Arthur was cooking for his guests (or, more likely,  reheating) smelled delicious and Merlin regretted more than ever that he hadn't been considered as a guest.

Merlin cleaned his way down the brief task list as sullenly as possible, deciding as he did that it was time for him to quit this cleaning job forever. Maybe if Arthur couldn't flirt with him in secret, as he had been doing for months now, he would be forced to actually speak to Merlin in real life.

There were no tasks on the list to be completed in Arthur's room, so Merlin didn't bother opening the door. It wasn't until Merlin was almost out the door that he noticed the lights were on in Arthur's room. He set down his bucket of cleaning supplies, shut the front door, and walked towards Arthur's bedroom. The last thing he needed was to be accused of leaving lights on at a client's house.

When he opened the door he actually jumped in surprise, letting out a string of curse words. Arthur Pendragon was waiting for him.

He was smartly dressed in dark denims and a black sweater, and he was standing holding out a glass of wine.

“I was running out of things to leave for you. It was going to have to be something from my sex toy collection next, and I figured we should have at least had dinner together before I show you those.”

Merlin took the wine and tried to mirror Arthur's mischievous grin, but his brain was exploding. Arthur was here, talking to him, finally. And, at the same time, sex toys? Merlin drank a sip of his wine and tried to calm down. Finally he managed a response, “Here I thought we were just getting started.”

“Oh, we _are_ just getting started.” Arthur assured him, his voice full of promise. Merlin considered that for a second, and he took another long drink of wine, then he set his glass down on the chest of drawers and did the same with Arthur's glass.

“I have a perfect mental image of you standing here in my bedroom, black skinny jeans letting me see just how excited you were, listening to your music and lifting that pillow to your face.”

Merlin stepped closer to Arthur and Arthur's eyes followed him. They were inches apart now, not touching. “All I could think about was you, sleeping in this bed. Maybe naked. Or pleasuring yourself here. All that possibility.”

“I thought about you wearing my shirt. The fabric against your skin, making you wish it was my hands instead. It made me burn to see you wear it so proudly, daring people to realise it belonged to me.”

Merlin was growing dizzy from the tension between them. The same tension that had followed him for weeks, distilled into this moment. It was time for the tension to break, and break it did.

“Possessive, are we?” Merlin asked, and he reached for the hem of his shirt and lifted it off, throwing it into the corner. Arthur inhaled audibly and Merlin smiled. “Are you going to mark me with kissed-in bruises like we're teenagers? Maybe on my neck, here, so you can see it above my collar from your office.”

Arthur couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from where Merlin's finger touched his neck, and Merlin felt need rush through him. There was something thrilling about knowing that Arthur was as affected as he was that made the whole situation even hotter.

Arthur removed his own shirt then, rather more gracefully than Merlin had, and the smile on his face when he emerged, hair tousled, was hungry and assured. Merlin’s breath left him in a stutter - Arthur was so fit. Merlin’s hands ached to touch his arms, his shoulders, his chest, his flat, muscled stomach. “I _am_ possessive, Merlin, but something tells me you won’t mind being marked as _mine_.”

Merlin found himself, somewhat subconsciously, shaking his head, but he was too busy absorbing the vision before him to really understand what he had just agreed to. Arthur laughed richly, and Merlin arched his back as the hairs on his neck rose.

“Now I want to see you pick up where you left off in that photograph you left me, Merlin.” Arthur said, and Merlin obeyed, unbuttoning his skinny jeans and removing them as well as his socks. He had not been wearing boxers, and therefore he had no more clothes to remove. He stood, unembarrassed, watching Arthur’s eyes roam his naked form, and wishing only that Arthur were similarly disrobed.

Arthur, still with that hungry smile, slowly finished undressing himself. Now that they were face to face on equal footing they could each see that the other’s near-arrogance regarding their own attractiveness was well deserved.

Merlin smiled, reaching down, like Arthur, to stroke himself, and he turned his own hungry smile on Arthur. “I’m equally possessive, Arthur, which you’ll learn. Now we’re going to have sex, then we’re going to eat whatever it is you’re cooking us for dinner, and after that you’re going to tell me all about this box of toys you so teasingly alluded to. Agreed?” Merlin kept smiling as Arthur laughed again, nodding, and they stepped into each other’s space, their lips meeting.

[--]

Merlin didn’t end up going home until late Sunday night, and on Monday he wore a shirt that did, in fact, show off the bites on his neck. But then again, so did Arthur. There was major gossip floating about at work as to exactly whom they had each been with at the weekend, but no one even hinted that they may have been together. They had agreed to keep their relationship a secret, because they both enjoyed playing the game at work, and they wondered how long it would take people to eventually figure it out.

When Friday came Merlin went straight to Arthur’s flat from work, and he waited there for Arthur to return from playing football. He opened Arthur’s Sacred Box of Magic Toys and contemplated each of them, deciding when, and where, they would be used to their best advantage. And in the days and weeks and months that followed they kept on carrying their secrets with them, and the tension between them, at least at work, was the same as it had been before.

**Fin.**


End file.
